Page 17 of I Don’t Believe In Fated Mates!

Finally, we break apart, chests heaving, steam rising from our bodies in the cool morning air. We circle each other for a moment, both of us trembling with exhaustion, then collapse side by side on the forest floor.

Our breaths come rough and ragged. Slowly, the sharp scent of blood gives way to the clean smell of pine and earth. Wounds knit together, torn skin sealing, muscle reweaving—our super-healing kicking in, as it always does.

For a long time, neither of us speaks. We just lie there in the stillness, two battered wolves beneath the canopy, hearts pounding in sync.

Then Cole huffs a laugh through his nose, the sound low and smug.

"Feel better, cry-cub?"

I bare my teeth in silent warning. But deep down, I do feel better.

And for the first time since Lane ran from me, I can almost breathe again.

The air warms as the sun climbs higher in the sky. Long minutes drift by as our wounds seal themselves shut, leaving behind scars that will vanish by the end of the day. Only silver leaves permanent scars on an Alpha.

In the distance, I hear the wail of a siren. Then another. Then another.

Shifters have very sensitive hearing, and I know the sound of our local emergency services companies.

Cole and I both sit up and look at each other, eyes narrowing, senses sharpening in alert. These sirens aren't from the Cedar Run EMS or the Cedar Run Sheriff's Department. And they are now getting closer, entering pack territory.

Who is bearing down on our pack, and why?

Chapter Ten

LANE

The room where we sit is spacious but cozy, all honey-colored wood and soft golden light. Wide windows line one wall, looking out over the pine-dense slopes below Moonstone territory, where sunlight filters through the trees and dapples across the floor in shifting patterns.

The air smells faintly of pine resin. A great stone fireplace dominates one wall, its hearth framed by carved wolves running in relief across the mantle. The fire inside burns low and steady, casting a soft orange glow that warms the edges of the room.

Plush armchairs and worn leather sofas are scattered in a loose circle. There's a small round table between Marion and me, draped with a handwoven runner and covered in plates of cookies, a steaming teapot, and more of the same earth-tone chunky cups that I saw in Jesse's house. I look under one of them and see a wolf pawprint there.

Marion smiles at me. "That's from a Shadowpine artisan family. They do a lot of beautiful pottery and weaving."

Every surface holds a piece of history: framed photos of wolf runs, a wooden carving of the Moonstone crest, and pictures of the pack Alphas throughout the years.

It's a room meant for gathering, for family – a family I ache to be a part of.

"These cookies should come with a warning label," I say, as I finish my eighth one. "May cause addiction and intense cravings." Much like Jesse.

"I will give you the recipe if you forgive my son for being an impatient, overbearing ass. His father, my late mate, was very much the same way when he first met me." Marion's eyes twinkle, but they also hold a gleam of sadness. "I came from the Lowlands Pack, about fifty miles from here. He met me when he was delivering cattle to my father. He didn't even want to give me time to pack a suitcase. Him and daddy almost tangled over that."

I smile wistfully. "That sounds intense, but romantic. I don't know, I may have scared him off for good." My heart twists at the thought.

I want him. I do. I don't just want to have sex with him, I want him. I want the way he looks at me, with such fierce possessiveness, and the way he makes me feel beautiful and needed, and the way he jokes with me and the way he holds me in his arms, gently caressing my back as I drift off to sleep.

Marion shakes her head. "You didn't scare him off. My son said you are his fated mate, and that means he will wait for you forever if he has to. He'd be bitching and moaning the whole time, mind you, but he'll wait until you're ready and I will make sure that he doesn't pressure you anymore. You can stay at my house if you like, there's plenty of room. And, what is going on outside?"

She cocks her head, listening intently.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Sirens. A lot of them."

I look at her in puzzlement. "I don't hear anything."

"Well, this building's pretty soundproof, but shifters have excellent hearing." She stands up. "And the sirens are not from Cedar Run EMS or police, either. I know what our sirens sound like."